


Special Treatment

by girlsarewolves



Category: Total Recall (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gen, Lori Quaid has to put up with too much bullshit, Pre-Movie, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexism, and gross treatment from your boss, in the future you still have to put up with sexism, not even the future world can handle her level of awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lori fakes it with a smile every time, thinking of what it’d be like to watch Cohaagen clutch his face and crotch, crying like a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Special Treatment特殊待遇](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208987) by [liangdeyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liangdeyu/pseuds/liangdeyu)



> Lori Quaid was, hands down, the best part of the Total Recall remake for me. But even this fabulously ruthless villain in the future had to deal with some gross treatment that she never would have gotten if she'd been a guy. (Also this section needed some Lori fic.)
> 
> Trigger Warnings for non-con/dub-con references at the end.

* * *

Lori Quaid gets special treatment.

 

She never asked for it. She doesn’t want it. But it happens not long after her twelfth birthday, when pain clenches her insides tight in her lower abdomen and her shirts fit her a little differently. Her mom buys her pink and flowery and very innocent, girly bras; she learns to stick a long, thin wad of spongy material up her vagina.

 

Lori would just as soon go back to being flat again and didn’t have to bleed for four days out of every fucking month for the next thirty years or so.

 

Boys start to look at her. She’s ignored them all her life and continues ignoring them, but they keep looking at her everywhere. At school, at karate class, at the shopping mart. They look at her like they’ve got a right to stare when everyone knows that staring is rude.

 

‘Oh, boys will be boys,’ her mother tells her. ‘You just have to live with it. Besides, in a way it’s flattering.’

 

 _Yes, Mother,_ she silently fumes; _it’s so fucking flattering that they keep looking at my chest like that’s all there is of me._

 

She starts wearing layers and drab clothing; dull colors and unisex styles. She buys boy jeans and cargo pants, and wrecks all the cute dresses her mother buys her and trashes the flowery blouses. She glowers at every boy that looks at her for more than five seconds, daring them to meet her eyes and keep staring. She growls at the few that do.

 

When she’s fourteen and her period hits her so hard she’s fighting back the urge to cry, a boy grabs her arm when she ignores his annoying voice calling her name. But she’s the one in the principle’s office waiting for her mother, like she’s the one who did something wrong.

 

That boy deserved getting his noise broken and balls kicked.

 

Lori sits with her back straight and a satisfied smile on her face even while she’s in pain; she doesn’t a word to the principle or her mother when the woman finally shows up, or her dad later scolding her and saying that just because she’s taking martial arts doesn’t mean she can go around practicing on unsuspecting boys.

 

She just rolls her eyes. And smiles; because she watched that boy let go of her and step back in fear. She watched that boy clutch his face and crotch, crying like a baby. And she did that.

 

No more boys touch her outside of sports and karate class, not until high school. It takes her a week to get a reputation as a lesbian bitch, even though she shows as little interest in girls as she does in boys. Only difference is girls don’t try touching her or grabbing her or trying to make her pay attention because they like looking at parts of her as if she’s there for them to gawk at.

 

By the time she’s seventeen, she’s already been accepted into the U.F.B. Police Academy. She takes pride that it’s more her skills and intellect that her parents’ wealth that gets her in; she takes pride telling the boys that call her a prude that she’ll remember that when she’s arresting them for dealing drugs and struggling to get by like the pathetic pieces of shit that they are.

 

Her fan base grows even bigger; all Lori does is smile.

 

But when she gets to the academy, she figures out quick she’s part of a small group of selected females; good enough to qualify but only accepted because it’s the late 21st century. There are more robots than human cops, and more men than women in those few remaining humans.

 

They live in a progressive time. There’s enough racial and class based dissent, can’t afford another huge feminist movement. That’s what it is; more special treatment.

 

Lori sees it in her instructors’ eyes, in the resentful male cadets’ cool dismissal of her skills and talents. Lori feels it in the air, and watches the other women accepted in quietly put up with it.

 

‘You just have to live with it,’ her mother had told her years prior.

 

Lori takes great pleasure in forcing the other cadets’ faces to the floors during sparring. She thrives on her instructors’ growing, begrudging respect when she aces her tests. She rolls her eyes and smiles when the other women catch on that they can be as good; better. And start voicing complaints when they get ‘special’ treatment because they’re women.

 

She graduates top of her class. She qualifies for higher rank education, for going places. For reaching the top, and that’s exactly what Lori plans to do. Reach the fucking top.

 

When Cohaagen himself tells her she’s one of the best – of course not as good as Hauser, the bastard everyone has talked of like some kind of unreachable deity all throughout her training and career – she smiles because she knows it’s true.

 

But every month she bleeds for four days, she still wears bras, and she still gets special treatment; the kind that requires her to take orders no man would be given, just because her boss likes watching her falter.

 

Lori fakes it with a smile every time, thinking of what it’d be like to watch Cohaagen clutch his face and crotch, crying like a baby.


End file.
